Episode Eight: Bloodlines: Scene 1

I was in a real fix. There was no mundane way off of the roof – no doubt why Tyv’zel had picked it. I didn’t know how to fly, shapeshift into a bird, summon a winged steed or any of the stuff I quite probably could do if I had the knowledge and experience.

And somebody was clapping slowly. The kind of slow clapping you awarded somebody who had got themselves in a fix.

I scowled, not even turning around. “Loki. He’s the one who brought me up here.”

My guess was right. “But you didn’t think to look for stairs before banishing him back to Hell. Which you did quite neatly, by the way.”

I sighed. “Stop teasing me and show me a way down?” I turned around. He was leaning against the HVAC exhaust from the building, grinning.

“Now, now. You really need rescuing.”

“Yes I do. You might be able to grow a set of wings and fly down, but I can’t.”

“Now there’s an idea.” And indeed, a set of brown, feathered wings, sprouted from his shoulders. “Like the look?”

“You are almost as far from an angel as he was.” I indicated where Martin/Tyv’zel had been before he vanished.

“Almost. Do you want a ride down or not?” He offered me his hand and I took it.

I was fairly sure the wings were just for show, but we drifted down lightly. “I need to learn that trick.”

“A lot of it’s about knowing you can do it,” he said, quietly.

“I admit I did just consider jumping and seeing if I could work something out before I hit the ground.” We touched down and the wings vanished. “You’re still a long way from an angel, though.”

“Have you ever met an angel? They’re boring. They’re not allowed to do anything fun. Why do you think there are so many demons?”

I laughed a bit. “Surely there has to be a middle ground?”

He shrugged. “Their creator doesn’t think so. Watch out, though. If Tyv’zel finds his way back he might decide to humiliate you in revenge.”

“I know. But he was trying to get in my pants and he…he wanted to make me his consort. Offered to protect me from Ragnarok.”

I almost expected Loki to say he could do that. Instead, he frowned, then, “Maybe you should have taken him up on it.”

I smiled. “I don’t think I’d enjoy living in Hell very much.”

“You never know.” He turned and walked away.

Protected from Ragnarok. He’d as much as admitted he couldn’t do that for me himself – and as much as admitted he wished he could.

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